Chapter 2: The Man Who Never Smiled
1401 Words
Damon Blackwood was not a man who smiled.
He looked at me like he was measuring how much trouble I would cause.
Not with anger. Not with interest. With calculation.
I felt it in my chest. That sharp awareness that came when someone saw too much. I kept my face calm. I kept my breathing slow. Victor had taught me one thing: we'll never show fear first.
“You’re late,” he said.
His voice was low. Flat. Controlled.
“I was told to report at this time,” I replied.
“Who told you?”
“Human resources.”
A pause. His eyes stayed on me. Dark. Still.
“They don’t make mistakes.”
My pulse jumped. “Neither do I.”
Something flickered in his gaze. Not amusement. Not approval. Curiosity, maybe. Or suspicion.
“Sit,” he said.
I did.
The silence stretched. I could hear my own thoughts. They were loud. Too loud.
He leaned forward slightly. “Aria Monroe.”
The way he said my name felt deliberate. Like he had already learned it. Like he had already tested how it sounded.
“Yes.”
“You’re young.”
I stiffened. “Is that a problem?”
“It depends.” His eyes moved over my face, slow and sharp. “Youth can mean carelessness. Or it can mean "careful.”
I chose my words. “I’m careful.”
“I doubt that.”
My fingers curled in my lap. “Why?”
“Because careful people don’t walk into my office without knowing what they’re walking into.”
My heart skipped. “I know exactly where I am.”
“Then tell me.”
I hesitated. Just long enough.
“I’m here to work,” I said. “I was offered a position. I accepted.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I lifted my chin. “It’s the truth.”
Another pause.
He leaned back. “You don’t look desperate.”
I blinked. “Should I?”
“Most people who want to work for me are.” His voice stayed calm. “They want power. Access. Protection.”
“I want a job.”
He studied me again. “Why?”
The question felt heavier than it should have.
“Because I’m good at what I do,” I said.
“And what is that?”
“Paying attention.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Give me an example.”
I swallowed. “You’re testing me.”
“Go on.”
“You haven’t asked about my résumé,” I said. “That means you already read it. You haven’t mentioned my references. That means you checked them and found nothing useful. And you’re watching my hands instead of my eyes because you think hands betray people faster.”
Silence.
My heart pounded. Too much. Too soon.
He did not look away. “And what do my hands tell you?”
“That you’re patient,” I said. “But not kind.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something colder.
“You’re observant.”
“I told you.”
“And reckless.”
My breath caught. “Why?”
“Because you just told me something you shouldn’t have.”
I held his gaze. “You asked.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“Most people try to impress me,” he said. “You didn’t.”
“I don’t think you like that.”
“I don’t.”
There it was. Honest. Sharp.
“Then why am I here?” I asked.
He folded his hands. “Because you were recommended.”
My stomach tightened. “By who?”
“That’s not your concern.”
It was. It very much was.
“I don’t like secrets,” I said.
He nodded once. “Then you won’t last long.”
Something about the way he said it sent a shiver through me.
“You haven’t asked if I want this job,” I said.
“I don’t need to,” he replied. “You already accepted.”
A beat.
“You needed it.”
That word again. Needed.
I forced my voice steady. “You don’t know what I need.”
“I know what you hide.”
My breath stuttered.
He leaned forward. “You’re tense. Your answers are controlled. And you flinch when I mention background checks.”
I froze. Just for a second. Too long.
“There it is,” he said quietly.
I tried to recover. “People flinch when they’re nervous.”
“You’re not nervous,” he said. “You’re guarded.”
I felt exposed. Like he had reached inside me and touched something raw.
“Is that a problem?” I asked.
“It depends,” he echoed my earlier words. “On what you’re guarding.”
Silence pressed in again.
“I was told you needed someone organized,” I said. “Someone discreet.”
“I need someone honest.”
My chest tightened.
“I am honest.”
He watched me. Waiting.
“With what matters,” I added.
That did it.
He stood. The movement was slow, controlled, and somehow intimidating. He came closer. Not too close. Close enough.
“Say that again,” he said.
“I’m honest with what matters.”
“And what doesn’t matter?”
“Everything that keeps me alive.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
His eyes darkened.
“Careful,” he said softly.
“I am.”
“No.” His voice dropped. “You’re pretending to be.”
My heart raced.
“I don’t pretend,” I said.
“Everyone pretends,” he replied. “The smart ones pretend well.”
We stood there. Two people testing limits. Two people refusing to step back.
“Why did you really come here?” he asked.
I thought of Victor. Of his smile. Of his threat.
“I came because I was told this job would change my life,” I said.
“And you believed that.”
“Yes.”
He searched my face. “You believe a lot of things.”
“I believe in survival.”
Another pause.
“Sit,” he said again.
I sat.
“You’ll work directly under me,” he said. “No intermediaries. No excuses.”
“I understand.”
“You will have access to sensitive information.”
“I can handle it.”
“You will not lie to me.”
My chest burned. “Of course.”
His eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t convincing.”
“I don’t lie,” I said. “I choose what to share.”
A dangerous silence followed.
“That’s a lie,” he said.
My breath caught.
He turned away, then back again. “I don’t know who you are yet, Aria Monroe. But I know you’re not what you claim to be.”
My throat felt dry. “Then why keep me?”
“Because people with secrets are useful,” he said. “Until they’re not.”
The words settled deep.
“You start today,” he continued. “You’ll be watched.”
“I expected that.”
“You’ll be tested.”
“I can handle it.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
“We’ll see.”
I stood slowly. “Is that all?”
“For now.”
I turned to leave.
“Aria,” he said.
I stopped.
“Don’t make me regret this.”
I faced him again. “I won’t.”
He held my gaze. “Everyone says that.”
As I walked out, my legs felt weak. My heart was still racing. He saw too much. Asked too little. That made him dangerous.
I had met powerful men before. Loud men. Cruel men. Men who enjoyed fear.
Damon Blackwood was different.
He did not need fear.
He inspired it.
Behind me, I heard his voice again. Calm. Cold.
“Run a full background check on her,” he said. “I want everything.”
I froze.
“Leave no detail untouched.”
My pulse spiked.
As the door closed behind me, one thought echoed in my mind.
What if he found the truth before I was ready?
When Damon Blackwood ordered a background check on me, I realized the danger wasn’t getting close to him, it was surviving what he would find.
- Writer
